


Having Children is a Horrible Reality

by Ninjaninaiii



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Child AU, Gen, M/M, Science Husbands, Team Bonding, and keep it, because they're idiots, cockblocked by a kid, in which they find a child, jealous husbands, team science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 18:15:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1397701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninjaninaiii/pseuds/Ninjaninaiii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermann and Newton are very drunk when they find a small, crying child in an alleyway. So of course, the natural thing is to keep it. Parenthood is definitely not for them, but being an uncle is... gratifying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Horrific Reality

“In theory, children are wonderful. In reality, they’re horrible.”

-

Hermann decides that whoever had invented children should have invented an instruction manual. Or at least a warning label. A handy list tattooed onto their backs. Anything. Anything to help with- with- this- monstrosity. It was loud, it was dirty and it sure as hell wasn’t respectful of its elders.

Kaiju. The apocalypse. A never-ending feeling of impending doom were nothing to him now: the culminative experiences from defeating all of them helped him all of nothing with this new threat- An eight year old.

Newborns he could deal with. Sure they cried. Sure they had very little bladder control. Sure they slept as much as zero percent of the time you wanted them to be asleep but hey, what was a little insomnia to a post-apocalypse-beating scientist. Or, rather, scientists. Because this was supposed to be a team effort. A partners thing. A dual responsibility. More on that later.

But eight year olds? They were cunning. They would not only eat the cake but they’d wipe the cake up various walls, get crazy sugar highs off the cake, blame other people for eating the cake, lie about eating the cake, cry about the cake, fart out the cake and none of this- none of this could or was ever redeemed with a newborn’s innocence. Because eight year olds were not innocent. They were the exact opposite of innocent. They were satan.

They found this particular child in an alleyway. It was dramatic, emotional and as creepy as it looked. Two men in their thirties, mid-alcohol-induced-trist, stumble into an alley and find a child curled into himself. Crying. They sober up pretty quickly, the taller of the two commanding the child to give them his name, his address, ordering him to stand up so that they can escort him to the police station. The smaller of the two rejecting all previously mentioned commands and crouching at a non-personal-space-injecting-distance and calmly asking whether he should call the cops.

They had stayed in the alley the remainder of the night, Newton all but telling the not-crying-as-much boy his entire life story, Hermann pacing so as to not let his hip seize up. It was an Asian spring night; mild but with an occasionally chilling fresh wind. The boy said nothing. As he was right to be, he reacted very negatively when the two men suggested he go with them. Hermann couldn’t decide whether to be appalled or reassured by this: on one hand, he was not and never could be taken for a pederastic serial-killer-rapist-gangster, but the fact that the child was wary of stranger-danger consoled him. At least the child wasn’t stupid… nor did he seem to be a threat.

Newt had shown the boy his PPDC badge, forced Hermann to show his too and haha, look, weren’t their photos funny? The security man in charge of doing the badges had obviously resized the photos to fit the allocated frame so they both looked squarer and chubbier than they were and it was a great pass-time of his to steal his fellow PPDC members’ badges and just laugh with them about their photos and he hadn’t yet found a photo that was actually nice and did the boy know Mako and Raleigh? Of course he did they’d saved the world well their photos were actually worse than most because the photos on their badges were really old and they both had really cute teenage acne and-

They managed to convince the boy to stand up on frail legs, frailer legs than even Hermann’s, and told him that they were going to take him to the Shatterdome. When a police station was suggested, the boy hadn’t budged but- the thought of jaegars or heroes or mechas or _something_ must have convinced him because he trailed after them to the enormous building only a couple of blocks away.

They had had no luck with a name though, and it had been Newt’s bright idea to call him Otachi, or ‘Ota’ as he liked to call him, because, well, the name was jangling around in his head right now and why not it’s not like Hermann had anything better to name him.

So they managed to smuggle Ota into Newt’s room (“I will not let that potentially hazardous child into the comfort of my room, Newton,”) told him to get some rest, that they would be in the room just opposite if he needed them. They left the door ajar (“we’re not going to lock the door unless you want us to, okay? Here’s my key just in case.”) and retreated to Hermann’s bunk for a serious discussion as to what they had just done.

The serious discussion hadn’t really happened. As soon as they realised that it was nearly six a.m. and that yes, they were still actually pretty pissed and by jove were they tired- they had drifted off pretty easily.

-

Hermann awoke in his Shatterdome room. He had a blinding headache. Too much alcohol. Never again. He rolled in his bunk to check the time. His bed oomphed.

Oomphed.

His bed- Newton was in his bunk. Okay. Not unusual, but no expected.

Right, Hermann, you are incredibly hungover right now and it is- and it is 17:24. Of course it is. You’ve lost nearly a whole day. Why is Newton in your bed? ...because there is a child in his. Right. Yes. That.  Right.

As it turned out, the child was not in Newt’s bed. The child was standing over Hermann’s bed.

Hermann nearly had a cardiac arrest when his eyes were locked onto by the child’s, slamming himself into the wall behind him and nearly concussing himself in the process. It didn’t help his headache.

“Good Afternoon,” he ventured. “I see you were able to use the door.”

The boy squinted down at them. Confused? Weirded out? Angry?

The answer was none of the three and came as an extremely large growling noise from the boy’s stomach.

“Ah. Yes. You are hungry. Understandable.” Hermann’s body echoed the call, and he winced slightly. It was almost a base instinct, one he hated evolution for. “It would seem I am too.” Not wanting to wake the still out-cold Newt, he rose as slowly as he could, making very few movements.

He looked down at himself and assessed his clothing situation. His jumper had been thrown and now lay crumpled in a corner, (it’d been very hot in the cramped bed,) his shirt was all kinds of creased, and his trousers were- hm. He zipped them up and found his belt, avoiding eye-contact with the boy. He hoped he was tall enough for the child not to be able to see his cheeks colour.

He smoothed down his shirt with a frown but, not particularly keen on undressing in front of a strange child, it would have to do.

Grabbing his cane, he indicated that the boy should follow him to food.

“I don’t know how long you’re intending on staying,” Hermann said to the boy he hoped was listening, “but if you do manage to get yourself lost in the time it takes us to find you your real home, my name is Doctor Hermann Gottlieb, double n, double t, and the fool you met last night is Doctor Newton Geiszler. G-e-i-s-z-l-e-r. There’s a hidden s. I do hope you can at least write, even if your vocal chords seem non-existent.

“If you take a wrong turn, head to the cafeteria. It is the only room within the complex that is labelled with neon signs. With any signs, in fact. 'Mustn’t mess with dinnertime', as is the explanation given. From there someone will be able to direct you to our laboratory.” He took a sharp left, pausing just slightly to make sure the boy wasn’t left behind. “If anyone asks, you’re an intern." Hermann retracted that. "Possibly too young to qualify as intern. You are… my cousin.” Echoes of ‘You look like an old man’ rang inside his head and he sighed slightly. “Nephew. You are my nephew. Do you understand me?” There was a brief movement that Hermann was going to assume was a nod. “Good. Well. Here we are.”

Hermann was pleased to note that the child was able to pick up a tray for himself, and that his manners allowed him a polite nod of thanks when the dinner lady had finished scooping noodles into his bowl. It was just past half-five, and Hermann was worried. At six, this place filled so fast it wasn’t unknown for people to just sit on the floor with their trays in their laps. For one thing, it made walking with cane particularly excruciating. For another he didn’t quite fancy the task of explaining why he had a child under his guardianship-

“Hermann my brother, what've you brought to show us today, ay?”

“Mr. Choi please,” Hermann said, hand rubbing forehead. “You’ve made me remember the hangover I was trying very hard to forget.” He raised his eyes from his food long enough to shoot Tendo, who was lowering himself into the seat opposite him, a withering look.

“And who're you, kiddo?” There was a grin. It looked knowing.

“That would be- my- …”

“He looks so much like you it’s almost painful,” Tendo hushed, glancing between boy and man as if playing spot-the-difference.

This was… unexpected. Hermann frowned. He had plenty of objections about child-theft, perversion, etcetera etcetera but… Hermann looked down at the child, actually seeing him for the first time. Tendo was right.

Hermann swallowed a 'dear lord'. The child just needed a shoddier hairstyle and years of not-sleeping and he would be a mini-Hermann. “Of course. He is my relation after all.” His eyes returned back to his noodles.

“So Vanessa finally let you show yer kid off, eh? He’s a looker, that’s for sure.” Tendo grinned at him, all brotherly warmth and reassurance.

Hermann nearly choked. Vanessa? “MY child!? You are extremely mistaken, Mr. Choi, this child is not mine. That is to say, he is not my son. He is my nephew.” He pushed his bowl to one side, appetite rapidly depleting. The child seemed unphased.

“Oh shit, sorry man, I just- I assumed-” Tendo pulled a face, both guilty and sincerely apologetic. “I couldn’t resist reading your file, what can you do, a private man like yourself, it's intriguing. It said you had a wife? Vanessa? And a son? So I just- you never talk about your personal life and, y’know, since we’ve survived the apocalypse and all, I thought you might want to start...” Tendo sipped a spoonful of sweetcorn soup. ”I apologize if I’ve overstepped my boundaries.”

The all-too familiar want to pulverise a certain amphibian bubbled up. Calming himself down, he neatly stored the thought for later. “No, do not worry, Mr. Choi. I- I don’t have a wife. Your file is inaccurate. Vanessa is my brother’s wife, this child is their son. Too many Dr. Gottlieb’s in one family.” He looked up and smiled. “This is how rumours start.” This web of lies was already getting complicated and- well… Newt wasn’t going to be happy.

Vanessa wasn’t real. Vanessa was something Newt had thought up years ago.

Inter-work relationships were an incredible no-no in the PPDC, unless, of course, you were drift-compatible jaegar pilots. Even then, strict regimes were kept so that there were no… unwanted third parties inside the massive killy-machines of death and destruction. Only those related by blood were allowed shared-bunks, no matter what gender. PPDC didn’t care about your race. PPDC didn’t care about your sexuality. PPDC didn’t care who, what, when and how you loved, it only cared about where. If you lived on PPDC property you weren’t doing the frickety frack, simple as. There were going to be no Shatterdome Children. There were going to be no Shatterdome last-night-on-earth flings. The apocalypse was not to be romanticized.

Team Science had rather ballsed that one up by being drift compatible without being pilots and thus having no way to be together. They also had so little pay, they couldn’t afford not to live off of Shatterdome premises. And so Newt had created Vanessa and Hermann Jr. Gottlieb. Because you couldn’t do the frickety frak in the Shatterdome but if you were doing it outside, you were allowed compensation. A house and a living for the wife and the kid back at home.

Hermann had instantly rejected the idea. Not only was it morally wrong to be essentially stealing money from the world just so that they could have a secret house, it was impractical too. Because really. Hermann? Having a loving family to call him papa at the end of the day? Not only was it unwanted and unbelievable, it was embarrassing. Newt had volunteered to having the secret family, but his being queer wasn’t the most well-guarded secret, which made for problematic times in the forgery of legal documents.

It had taken a while (nearly 2 years,) but, like the begrudging husband he knew he was, he signed the documents and filed them away. A free house and a free bursary for a fake parent and child came into his possession. Hermann just wanted Newt to be happy. 

It had happened so long ago that Hermann had almost (almost) forgotten that Vanessa was still in action.

“...But then… what… what do you do with the… house? And the bursary? Aren’t those yours because of Vanessa?”

“My brother is infuriatingly rich,” Hermann sighed. “As in, he could probably buy a small country with his pocket money. So the house…” Hermann tapped his nose conspiratorially, something he’d never thought he’d feel the need to do, ever, but finding no Gottleibian way of convincing Tendo to cease with the questions. 

Tendo nodded, slowly. He was thinking. Hard. He glanced at the child every so often. He frowned, tilted his head slightly to the right, nodded to himself and then smiled. He’d had an epiphany. “You seen Newt this morning, Hermann?”

Hermann rolled his eyes. Typical. Eight years of having a not-so-subtle relationship with his co-worker and people think they’re wonderfully intelligent for sussing it out.

“Yes yes well done, Very intuitive.”

“I can’t believe YOU’RE cheating the system, Hermann. Newt I can understand but you?” Tendo sipped his soup conspiratorially. “This is gold. He has you whipped.”

“You are to tell no-one, Mr. Choi.”

“Of course, of course. Wouldn’t want them to revoke access to your love den.” His smug grin was quickly replaced with an offended wince as Hermann kicked his shins under the table. “Yeah yeah my mouth is zipped.” He mimed a lock and threw away the key. “So go on, why’s the kiddy here? What’s your name, boy?”

“His name is Otach-” Hermann coughed. Well this was. “Ota. His name is Ota.” Awkward.

“Ota eh? You like it at the Shatterdome, Ota?”

Ota looked up from his noodles with contempt.

“A quiet one, eh? I bet you’re gonna be a real clever kid like your daddy and your uncle, hm? How old are you, Ota? Are you still in elementary? Or are you a big kid, eh?”

The boy lowered his chopsticks from his mouth. “Why’re you wearing braces? How old are you, two hundred? They were lame in 2014, mister.”

Hermann dropped his chopsticks in synch with his mouth.

“Woah!” Tendo chuckled. “Sprighty one, ain’tcha.” He hooked his fingers in said braces with the grace and poise of someone who honestly didn’t give a fuck. “I personally think I’m a charming fella in my clothes.”

Ota looked him up and down. “Whatever, fossil.” He pushed his empty bowl to the side and looked up at Hermann. “I want pudding.”

Hermann’s mouth hadn’t closed yet, but he was making faintly goldfish-like mouth movements. “I-” His motor neurons finally caught up and his snapped his mouth shut with finality. “Apologise to Mr. Choi at once.”

“Nah brother, it’s all cool, kids will be kids-”

“Oh please. Children must know discipline, and know to respect authority.” He gave Ota a hard look. “3 seconds, Ota.” Ota sat very still and didn’t break eye contact. “One…” Ota set his jaw.  “Two…” He squirmed slightly.“Three. Right. Well I see how you’re going to be-” Hermann moved his hand towards his cane. Ota watched the movement with dawning fear.

“M’Sorry.” It was weak and it was riddled with fear. It was quickly said, completely insincere and he hadn’t dropped his eyes from the cane. Hermann nodded once.

“And again, Ota, look at Mr. Choi whilst you speak to him.”

“...I’m sorry. ...Mr. Choi.” His lower lip was wobbling slightly.

“Well done, Ota.” Hermann placed a large, bony hand on Ota’s shoulder. Squeezed slightly.

Tendo watched the interaction with intense interest. Hermann wasn’t… violent, right? He was known to wave the cane around when agitated, and Newt had complained more than once about Hermann’s definitely deliberate treading on his toes, or his using the cane to tap him on the head, but… he wouldn’t… maliciously hit someone right? He bit his lip. “Ota, thank you for the apology.” He smiled at the boy. “Wellp, Uncle Tendo’s gotta go do some computery things now, ‘kay? Make sure you drop by my room later, yeah?” He wiggled his eyebrows as he took out a corner of chocolate, his look hinting that it was their secret to share. Rationing was starting to hit. It was going to be hard.

As soon as Tendo left, the tender look dropped from Ota’s face. Hermann nearly did a double take. He sighed. “You’re going to be a very difficult child to deal with, aren’t you.”

Ota raised his eyebrows, an incredibly sinister pull at the corner of his lips.

“I... apologise if I scared you. This will probably annul any sense of authority I have but…” He tapped his cane. “I would never, ever hit you.” Hermann had actually been chilled when he realised that his move to pick up his cane (that was all it had been, he was just going to use it to pull himself up,) could be interpreted as… “There’s a difference between discipline and cruelty. I know that difference.”

Ota licked his lips, consideringly.

“I saw the fear in your eyes, Ota. And I’m incredibly sorry for how I must’ve scared you. If you ever wish to talk about… violence, past or present…”

“Head to the cafeteria.” The boy fiddled with his fringe, eyes dropping to the table. “Double n, double t. Hermann Gottlieb.”

“Yes. Well. As we have named you a rather informal name, you may call me Hermann.”

“Uncle Hermann.” And that was that. Suddenly a very harsh sense of responsibility fell on Hermann’s shoulders. He gulped, pulled himself up. Picked up his tray and deposited it on the allocated trolley.

-

Newt woke up and his brain nearly fried itself as he opened his eyes. This was not his room. This was not his PPDC bunk. An alarming pit formed in his stomach. Oh god oh god have I done something incredibly stupid, shit shi- He scrambled to get out of the bed and nearly cried when he noticed a very familiar blazer hanging on the back of a metal chair. Dizzy with the sensation of getting up too suddenly, as well as swelling relief, he crashed back onto the bed with a soothed sigh. Then he breathed in the scent of togetherness and happiness and alcohol and-

There is a child in your bed.

Hermann is gone.

Where’s Hermann?

...Hermann is alone with the child.

For the second time in as many minutes, he stood with sudden alertness, swaying slightly as he burst out of the room and into his own. Empty. The bed had definitely been occupied though, so at least that part hadn’t been a dream. Taking a second to calm himself, he stripped out of yesterday’s (and probably the day before’s) clothes and pulled on the nearest t-shirt and jogging pants. It was a sunday (or maybe monday?) so nobody could fault him for his casualness. Pushing on his glasses, he left his room, checked Hermann’s again, in case they’d suddenly materialised, and went on the hunt.

First stop had been the toilets (he’d needed to pee anyway,) then the shower-room (no that would be weird if Hermann had taken the child there,) then the cafeteria. Newt’s heart sunk when he entered. It was a typical sunday evening; busy. Very busy. It was a people-sitting-on-floors day. His stomach growled angrily, but the queue was too long to even consider right now, and he couldn’t see the stupid haircut belonging to the stupid man. Eyes darting across the room, he didn’t even recognise anyone that would be able to help him, so he went to his next destination, the lab.

He was nearly out of breath when he burst into the room, the familiar scent of formaldehyde, ethanol and chalk, mixed with the dentist-like smell of rubber gloves and drilled bone-dust hitting him like a wall. It wasn’t really a nice smell, but it was one he really should be used to by now. He almost felt sorry for Hermann… it wasn’t like he worked with anything smelly, but he still had to put up with the constant smells-

“WOAH WOAH WOAH KID STEP BACK TAKE VERY LARGE STEPS BACK RIGHT NOW.” Newt ran over to where the child had his face pressed up to the glass tank, and was knocking on the glass with increasing strength.

“Ahh Newton, how nice of you to join us,” said a particularly distant voice from his corner of the room. There was the sound of fingers tapping keyboard keys, but Newt ignored it. Him.

“OTA I’M BEING SERIOUS DON’T TOUCH THAT THAT’S A KAIJU-”

“He’s aware, Newton. But what harm is he doing, it is dead, afterall isn’t it?” Hermann sounded dead.

“Well yes but-” Newt buzzed around the boy, not wanting to touch him lest the boy break. He didn’t know anything about human children. Would they break from touch? “Ota please, Ota junior’s a delicate specimen and wow this is seriously going to become confusing okay Ota 2, human Ota, Humota? Maybe it’s a bit demeaning for you to be two okay Ota, Otachi? Kaijuchi? That sounds like Sushi okay no dammit this wasn’t a good idea hm. He stopped from where he’d been bodily vocalising his internal monologue. “You,” he said, pointing at the human child. “You’re Ota.” He pointed at the kaiju child, floating in the large tank. “That’s O Jr.” He pointed at another tank. “That’s O Mama. Everyone clear? Good. Right. Ota, please step away from O Jr.”

Ota gave him a bored look but stepped away. He couldn’t resist letting his fingertips smudge the glass a little longer though, just enough to be understood as vindictive.

“Oh my god, really? C’mon now Ota that was just-” He sighed. After the drift, Newt’s tolerance of fingerprints on glass really had gone downhill. He reached for a rag, dampened it in ethanol solution and got to work cleaning the oversized specimen-jar. Once he’d finished, he looked over at Hermann, who was reading a newspaper, and then at Ota, who had got to work excavating his nose.

“So, Ota, you feeling better this morning? Did grumpy Hermz get you something to eat? Have you been to the toilet? You wanna have a shower?”

Ota carried on picking his nose. He looked up at Newt. He licked his finger.

“EW man that was gross, dude. Eghhhh have you no shame??” He gave a deploring look at Hermann.

Who just looked back. Incredulously. “Excuse me? I’ve seen where that finger of yours has been.” He was obviously referring to Newt’s previous habit of… basically doing exactly what this kid had just done but the way he’d said it was just-

They both looked at each other, both knowing they’d both thought the same thing. This was usually the part where’d the lock the door and do some private experimentation but… the sobering effect of the child from last night in the alley-way returned in full force.

Hermann cleared his throat. Then he pointed at a bowl of chicken noodle soup on his desk. “Should still be warm.”

“Hermann you absolute babe,” Newt said, diving at the bowl, any dignity evaporating suitably.

“Please for the love of everything holy, never call me ‘babe’. Ever. I will be physically sick.”

Newt grinned as he clambered onto Hermann’s desk, sitting cross-legged on top of what was possibly incredibly important paper-work. He brought the bowl to his mouth and slurped loudly. “Aw you love it and you know it.” If it was possibly to slurp chicken noodle soup seductively, Newton was doing it. Hermann scooted closer to his desk in his wheely chair. “So,” Newt said, mouth full and chewing greedily. “How irreparably damaged is Ota after spending alone time with you?”

“Tendo called me out on Vanessa, Ota demands baked goods on a bi-minute basis, and… three or four weeks worth of work is…” Hermann pointed at an uprighted chalkboard lying on the floor and looking very... sorry for itself. The numbers written upon it were smudged beyond comprehension. “Destroyed,” he said in a decisive tone. Decisive or… borderline insane. It was either/either with Hermann at the best of times.

Newt’s eyes returned from board to boardmaster (mental note: force Hermann into another D&D game,) and then back to board. The fingermarks were small and purposefully destructive. Newt turned to look at Ota. “How are you still alive,” he whispered, half to himself.

Ota kicked the ground.

“He and I were having an incredibly important discussion,” Hermann said darkly. “When I may have struck a sensitive chord. He has agreed to be good from now on.”

“Wh-” Newt looked dazed, turning from boy to man to board. “Bu- Wait wait wait, you were having a discussion?? He talked? To you?? And he destroyed your boards! Why are you not in the process of trying to kill him? You nearly killed me for half as much damage!”

“There is a 25 year gap between you and he.” Hermann stood. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go to fulfill my end of our bargain. Use extreme caution,” he warned Newt. “And you.” Hermann squinted down at the boy. “We have an agreement, yes? You understand the rules. Listen to Uncle Newton.”

“Uncle?!?” Newt stuttered, barely conscious from plot twist after plot twist. “Since when did he become my-” But Hermann was already gone, limping down the corridor. Newton sighed. “I guess it’s just you and me, eh, kiddo?”

-

Hermann should have been expecting what he returned to, he really should have. Newt was curled into a corner of the room in the foetal position, rocking slightly. Various surfaces were sizzling from knocked over bottles of highly corrosive materials, and there were incredibly horrifying spots of blue splattered around the room. Hermann hoped to high heaven that those weren’t of Kaiju origin.

“Geiszler?” He ventured. “Are you… alive? Fully functioning? In need of medical assistance?”

Newt whimpered softly.

“Newton… where is the child?” He placed his two carrier bags onto his desk, carefully avoiding  a slowly growing puddle of goop, trying to spot the youth.

“I- he- he attacked me.” Newt sounded more disbelieving than afraid, the tone far from vengeful.

“Yes, I noticed he had an oddly violent tendency when cornered. Hence my warning to exercise caution.”

“I was just giving him a quick check-up- he looked so weak yesterday I wanted to check for injuries, bruising, damage, but-” Newt rolled onto his back so that he could stare up at Hermann self-piteously. “He scratched me.”

“I knew it was a bad idea leaving you children alone…”

“Hey! HE started it!”

Hermann exhaled slowly, offering Newt his hand. “We must search for him before he attracts unwanted attention.”

-

Tendo nearly jumped out of his skin when something gave the hairs on the back of his head a rough pull. He swiped his headphones off his head and swiveled to find- “Ota? What- ow, that hurt, you little shi- ...n biter.”

“Don’t swear, it’s rude.”

“So is pulling someone’s hair! And I didn’t swear, I said ‘SHIN’ with an ‘N’.”

“You meant it as a swear though. And I know what swear you meant. You were going to say SHI-” Ota was cut short by Tendo’s hand clamping around his mouth.

“Hey now lil’ kids ain’t supposed to use big boy words. OH MY GOD EW-” He pulled away when there was a wet tickling on the palm of his hand. “Did you just LICK me??”

Ota wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “I want chocolate.”

“Bad boys ain’t allowed chocolate!” Tendo swiveled with authority, staring at the blank screen. It was the kaiju monitor. He still monitored it. Just in case.

“But you said if I came here I get chocolate.” Ota made his voice wobble. He pulled at Tendo’s sleeve. “I’m sorry I called you fossil, mister.” Tendo glanced down at him and Ota knew he’d won. He threw in a lip wobble for good luck.

“...” Tendo said nothing, but pulled out his bar and snapped off a square. He watched greedy hands grab at it and he pulled back. “Ah ah ah, what’s the magic word?”

“Please, mister!” Tendo smiled, dropping it into the outstretched hands. It disappeared in microseconds. “Thank you.”

“That’s all right.” He faced the monitors again, sighing. It was a lot less interesting staring at an empty map when the meaning of an empty map wasn’t such a new sensation.

“What’re you doing?”

“Watching for monsters,” Tendo said. He stole a glance. The boy seemed interested. Tendo reached over and hefted the boy into his lap. After the initial squirming, Tendo made him settle down with a ‘I won’t fuck with you if you don’t fuck with me, caphishe?’ look. “This map’ll show me if any Kaiju show up. You see those green dots there?” Ota nodded. “That’s us. Or, more specifically, those’re the trackers of jaegers we managed to find and recover.” It was more than depressing that they only had remnants of Cherno Alpha and Crimson Typhoon left after the battle. At least the pilots had managed to survive the fight through some insane miracle or another.

“I thought all the kaiju were dead,” the boy said weakly. “Didn’t Gypsy Danger blow them all up?”

“Yes, but… it’s always good to be prepared, right?” And now he was just scaring the kid unnecessarily. Nobody knew what was going to happen next, that’s why Newt and Hermann still worked around the clock, had sleepless nights and struggled with celebration when everyone else had gone back home, had finished their jobs.

“And if they do come back?”

“Well then I’ll be sitting right here, waiting for them. As soon as a red dot flashes on this screen, we’ll send our biggest and bravest warriors to destroy them!” This would be true if they had any of the sort. The jury was still out on whether they should re-build bigger, better mechs after their annihilation. The boy seemed pleased with the answer though, so he let it go.

“Wow… that’s… cool.”

“HA! You do have emotions! And you’re darned tootin’ that’s cool, it’s freaking rad y’hear? You’re sitting on the deck with the guy who helped save the world, you should feel honoured!”

“I never knew.”

“What, you think blockheads like the Becket bros or the Hansens could do it all by themselves? The only pilots I’d feel safe leaving my life with are Misses Mori and Kaidonovsky. Mark my words those two lasses are going to lead the new world. So yeah, team Science are who saved the freaking word, and you heard it here first!”

“Team science?”

“That’s me, my team, your uncle and your uncle’s… friend. You’ve met Newt?”

“He’s stupid.”

“Too right he is, but boy did his stupidity save our asses. He is a goddamn rockstar, let no-one tell you otherwise. Without him, we’d all be kaiju fodder right now.”

“How? That pea-brain could never do anything cool like you guys.”

“Pfft, that pea-brain managed to crack into a Kaiju’s mind and find out all of its secrets. Newt almost single-handedly discovered how to get into the Kaiju’s base and how to destroy it. BOOM! POW! Without that the final mission would’ve failed!!”

“Almost single-handedly?”

“Well, he had your uncle there to help him, didn’t he. Those two are hardly away from each other, and, as you well know, two heads are better than one.” Tendo tapped Ota’s forehead. “If I tell you a secret, will you promise not to tell anyone?” Ota nodded solemnly. “Newt and your uncle…” he paused for dramatic effect and whispered into his ear.

“...Mr. Choi? Have you seen Ot-” Hermann’s words halted in his mouth when he saw the devilish look on Tendo’s face, and the frown on Ota’s. “What’ve you been telling him?”

“I was just explaining how awesome team science was! Ain’t that right, kiddo?”

Ota jumped off of his perch and dusted himself off. “You guys saved the world.”

All three men filled with warmth. It was one thing being praised by one another, but to have a stranger, a child no less, praise their abilities… it was life-changing. It was fulfilling. This was what they worked round the clock trying to protect. This boy would now grow up, reassured that brains and brawns weren’t opposite factions that had to be chosen between.

Newt was positively glowing with the statement. “I might cry,” he admitted, nudging his glasses up his nose.

“You would, nerd.” The mood in the room flipped, or at least stuttered.  

“Wha-what? Hey, you just said yourself that us nerds helped save the world!”

“Uncle Hermann and Mr. Choi are cool. You’re stuuuupid. Bleehhhh.” Ota stuck out his tongue. Then he ran.

“ _Hermanm_ is cool???” Hermann rolled his eyes and restarted the pursuit whilst Newt had a minor mental breakdown. “Hermann… is… cool?? TENDO EXPLAIN.”

“I think he has a thing for authority,” Tendo ruminated, watching Hermann’s back disappear around a corner.

“Well yeah, all kids rebel from it but-”

“No… I think he respects it. I think he wants, needs someone to tell him what’s right and wrong. Good and bad. He needs a strong leader.”

“I’m a strong leader!”

“You babble, Newt, and no offense but a kid ain’t gonna see you as an authority figure in a Naruto T-shirt and with joggers stained with rainbow-coloured patches.”

Newt looked down at himself. Okay, he would admit that maybe the joggers had seen better days but it was an affront to humanity to diss the art that was Naruto. Anime wasn’t for children. It was complex, emotional and-

“Don’t you dare give me that ‘Anime is modern art’ spiel again, Newt. A kid sees a cartoon as a cartoon. You, sir, are wearing cartoon merch. Hermann is sporting the Dusty Professor look. Kids can respect that. Everyone had that teacher who came straight from the early 20th century.”

“And what about you, you hipster wannabe. Last time I heard, Instagram wasn’t worldly renown as an authority figure.”

“Ha ha. I told him cool secrets and wowed him with facts about Sasha and Mako. He’ll be a fanboy in no time.”

“Please don’t tell me you told him about the shipping-”

“Naahh, brother. Just a quick lesson on feminism is all.” He adjusted his bowtie. “If Hermann is the grumpy uncle, i’m the cool uncle who always has sweeties for the kids.”

“And what am I, the mad cat lady that the family has disowned?”

“You have a boyfriend and a secret child to run after.”

“...” Tendo countered Newt’s scowl with a wink and waved him away with a “Shoo.”

And with that, Newt was off at a trot.

-

When Ota had looked behind him and found that it was only Uncle Hermann following, he slowed down. Uncle Hermann had a bad leg. He didn’t want to make it hurt bad. He didn’t stop though, that would show he was weak. He pretended like he was out of breath and halted as a rounded  a corner.

Hermann nearly barreled into him, but sidestepped just in time. Startled at the sudden stop, he followed the boy’s gaze up to… their route had taken them to the practice hanger, where what remained of the pilots hung around to train, weight lift, and otherwise show them to be the fine spectacles of humanity that they were. He smiled at the boy’s growing wonder.

“Would you like to meet them?”

Ota nodded.

The Kaidonovsky’s were closest, sparring in a shiny, red-rimmed boxing ring. Aleksis was barely holding up under his wife’s punches, barely able to block her quick and well-timed blows, let alone pull his own. They shared a look as boy and man approached, unseen to even the keenest observer, and their fight suddenly turned into a full-blown spectacle. Boxing turned to mixed martial arts, Aleksis coming into his own with his power and stance behind him. Eventually Sasha downed her husband for the count and stood gloriously over him whilst he panted for breath. She grinned at Ota, whose jaw had dropped and his eyes had started glimmering with awe.

“Kaidonovsky’s, this is my nephew, Ota. Ota, these were… are.the pilots of Cherno Alpha.” Husband and wife nodded at the boy, who looked like he’d just wandered into paradise. Aleksis picked himself up from the floor, kneeling in front of the boy before him. He offered his hand. which was grasped timidly. The bearded Russian gave him a firm handshake and a pat on the head.

“Dr. Gottlieb’s nephew, hm.” Sasha crouched beside her husband. “Too handsome to be scientist’s nephew, I think.” She winked at the boy who reddened immediately and fell behind Hermann, using him as a human shield.

“Oi oi, you try to steal my wife, hum, boy?” Aleksis’ laugh was like how you’d imagine Zeus’: all thunder and power.

“Steal? PAH, you are lucky I stay with you.” Aleksis laughed again, Sasha swatting him with a cheeky grin.

Ota tugged on Hermann’s cardigan sleeve, beckoning his ear. “I thought they died,” Ota whispered at him in a child’s whisper, aka not a whisper at all.

“We never die! We are immortal!” Aleksis roared, pounding on his chest. Sasha swatted him again and Aleksis fell backwards with a loud thud and a chuckle.

“We are strong, yes? No Kaiju will kill us. We swim fast and strong. We only killed by old age.”

Ota nodded vehemently. Hermann had to admit they were just plain cool.

Aleksis’ guffaws had drawn curious looks, and curious looks had turned to interested head turning, which eventually led to curious crowding around.

Mako knelt so that she was at Ota’s eye-level. “Hello,” she said. “Who are you?”

“M-Mako Mori! You’re Mako Mori!”

The smiling young woman nodded eagerly. She was among the few pilots new to fame and recognition. “Hai!” She cringed. “Yes, I am Mako Mori. You may call me Mako, if you would like."

Ota practically had stars in his eyes.

“This is my nephew, Ota. He’s visiting for a couple of days.”

“Well, Ota, we’d better show you around, hmm?” Raleigh had taken his place beside Mako, hands on hips, the American archetype of perfection. He ruffled the boy’s hair, earning him an honoured grin.

The triplets stood slightly to the side with the elder Hansen. They knew their position in the pilot hierarchy. The triplets had been a novelty, yes, but to the wider public they’d seem to have done next to nothing in the all-important final battle, which they’d accepted with dented pride. Few people even knew they’d survived the battle. The new marshall wanted nothing to do with fame. His name hardly appeared in the papers.

So when the boy turned from the all-stars in favour of the triplets, they nearly cried. Ota bounded over to them and rummaged in his pockets for a second, taking out a wad of various pieces of paper. From amongst the mess of bank notes, doodles and receipts, he removed 4 playing cards, three of which he fanned out in front of his face. They were ratty, old and had been in one too many pockets, but if anything, that only showed how loved they were. Each brother stared at a photo of his own face, names proudly plastered over them in bold font.

“Crimson Typhoon is my favourite,” Ota admitted. “You’re really, really, really cool. I wish I had brothers like you.”

The triplets turned to one another. They were nobody’s favourite. That title was reserved for the dream team. They crouched simultaneously,

"Tang Xiang Wei", said one. "Tang Hu Wei" said the second. "Tang Long Wei". The eldest of the three pointed at the boy. “Tang Ota Wei.” He unpinned a dragon badge from his lapel and pinned it onto Ota’s t-shirt. “Wei triplets plus one.”

Ota looked like he had died, or was in the process of doing so. His eyes were so wide there was more white than pupil, and his mouth had hit the floor. Hermann chuckled. It looked like Tendo’s efforts to make Team Science top dog in the PPDC in Ota’s eyes was failing rather spectacularly. Seeming to come to his senses, he thanked the brothers profusely before turning to his last target.

Hansen looked down at the boy, expression stern and stoic, but with a hint of fatherly longing that nearly crushed Hermann’s soul. Ota gulped and walked over to him. “You can have this one, Sir.” Herc looked down at a similarly tatty photo of his son. He squared his jaw and the bunker fell deathly silent.

“Nah, kiddo, that belongs to you. I’m sure Chucky would be much happier you kept hold of that rather than his stinky dad, right?” He smiled, faintly, and handed back the card. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“...For caring, kid. You’re gonna grow up good, just like Chuck did.” The bunk nearly melted. Herc stood and scowled at all of them. “If I hear so much as a single ‘aw’ out of you bastards, you can count yourself fish food, you understand? Nobody outside of this room hears what was said inside this room. Do we have ourselves an understanding?”

There were a couple of nods.

“Do we have. Ourselves. An understanding.”

“Sir, Yes, Sir!”

Herc glanced around him again, watching for anything as rebellious as a smile. “Good.” He smiled smugly at Ota before storming out.

-

Newton slid into the room a couple of minutes later, finding practically half the staff of PPDC crowded around the young boy. Why was everyone being so nice to him? Why was he being so nice to everyone? He surveyed the room and- yep. Newt was the only one being treated with any kind animosity at all.

“You missed a spectacular show of emotion, Geiszler. It was really rather touching.”

Newt sighed. Of course he had. “What, did Ota’s childish charms manage to spring tears in the eyes of the masses? Typical. You guys had a bonding exercise whilst I wasn’t there.”

“You say that as if we did it to spite you,” Hermann said, settling beside Newt with a raised eyebrow.

“Well how am I supposed to feel when you ignore me for him the entire day, hmm, Hermz?”

“Gottlieb in public, Geizsler.”

“What, it’s not like we have to hide it now, right, Hermy.” Newt locked his arm with Hermann’s. If anyone looked, it was far easier to explain than a hand-hold, or, god forbid, a publicly displayed show of affection in the form of a kiss.

Hermann made to wriggle away but thought better of it, moving only slightly for the gesture to become comfortable and more accommodating. Newt was definitely a better crutch than his stick. Not that he’d ever admit as such.

The warmth at his side doubled when his stick was wrestled away and his other arm was commandeered into a strong hold. He swayed slightly at the balance change and shot a questioning look at its cause.

“Hey Doctor Gottlieb,” Raleigh shouted over the room. “Looking good, man! A pretty boy on each arm, I’m jealous!”

Ota and Newt pulled possessively on their own arm. Hermann nearly fell over.

-

“In theory, children are wonderful. In reality, they’re horrible.”

“Newton, you’re jealous of an eight-year old. Trust me, you needn’t be.”

“I’m not jealous, Hermann! Jeez you’d think you were the be all and end all of my life, like I’m a really needy, really lonely biologist with too much spare time and not enough Hermann time, no. Not jealous. Not jealous of an eight year old. He’s satan. I’m trying to protect you. From satan. It’s my public duty to make sure you don’t fall into his fiery trap and can’t do mathsy things anymore. What if a kaiju attacks? Who’ll predict how many are going to turn up? Can’t do that when you’re distracted by satan, can you.”

“Oh please. While I appreciate the sentiment, I doubt we’ll be in his company forever, Newton. I should rather hope on the other hand, that our relationship lasts a lot longer.” He gives Newt a sidelong look of begrudging affection.

Newt is still pouting, but he struggles to control a smile.

“And whilst we’re not distracted,” Hermann says, pulling off his sweater. “We must find out where our eight year old originates from. I think 3 days is more than enough time to keep him from whatever home he belongs to.”

“It’s only been 3 days?? Dude I swear it’s been like at least a month. This much strife cannot have come from 3 days.”

“You’re rather exaggerating, I think. It hasn’t been that bad, Newton.”

“Yeah well, he loves you. I’ve had three days of being ignored and harassed in equal measures. Plus he’s not sleeping in your bed, farting in your sheets, drooling on your pillows.”

“And yet I still have a child’s bodily fluids in my bed. No, that phrasing was wrong. Erase that from memory.”

Said man-child bounced on the bed. “So where d’ya think he’s from? Do you think he’s… a W.O?”

A War Orphan. In some cities, especially ones not in the West, there was too high a percentage of parentless kids, and too few places to take them in. Orphanages didn’t tend to have an incredibly high supply-demand ratio recently, and it had got to a point where most had simply closed their doors.

“I… no. I don’t think he is. I could be entirely mistaken but… do you remember I told you we’d had a discussion on the first evening of him at the shatterdome?”

“Yeah. He wrecked your board cos’ you struck a tender spot?”

“I asked him about his parents.”

“And he reacted badly? All the more reason for him to be a W.O.”

“No… he… obviously I am not a psychologist, let alone a specialist in children but, he seemed… pretty relieved to no longer be under their jurisdiction.”

“And you want him to go back?”

“Well- I- I want to know. I want to know why he was so afraid of me picking up my cane, of me raising my voice. It worries me.”

“Oh. Shit.” Newt clung to the bedsheets. He suddenly felt very grounded. “Where to start… we don’t even know his name.”

“It is slightly worrying how quickly he has taken to the name Ota. He hasn’t slipped on the name once.”

“You don’t think-” Newt’s eyes widened with a look that screamed fanboy.

“-that he’s actually the anthropomorphic embodiment of an alien corpse? No, Newton, I don’t think.”

“But it had passed your mind.”

“Unfortunately, you weren’t the only one to leave the drift unaffected.”

“This makes me very happy.”

“It makes me less so. So. Alien children aside…”

“A runaway.”

“Potentially.”

“I could always take some blood, do a DNA test, match it to the hospital records.”

“You have access to hospital records?”

“I had a spare afternoon. I thought it may come in handy.”

“You hacked into hospital records. Of course you did.”

“Is that a yes to the blood pulling then?”

“...I don’t see very many other options… if talking goes how it went last time, I could lose more than a month’s worth of work.” He winced. It was a horrible thought.

“Right. You hold him down and I’ll stab ‘im.” Newt stood up and removed a needle from his jeans pocket.

“...you… you have been planning this all along, haven’t you.”

“Yes. No. Maybe? Why. Is it a good or a bad thing if I had been.”

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less of you. Though… perhaps this should be less of an ambush.” He opened his hand. “I should probably do it.”

“You? Take blood? Uhhh…. you sure about that?”

“It’ll be fine. Though I might need your help, quantity wise.”

-

Ota looked up from the comic book he’d been given (see: appropriated from Newt’s shelf) and smiled when Hermann came in. He pointedly ignored Newt.

“Good evening, Ota.”

“Hey, Uncle Hermann.”

“‘Hey, Uncle Hermann,’” Newt mocked in a high-pitched voice. Hermann smacked him in the chest.

Hermann sat on the end of Newt’s bed, Newt himself hovering slightly in the door. “What i’m about to ask you may sound strange, and please feel free to object it outright, but I have a small request to ask of you.”

Ota nodded, curious.

Hermann took the needle from his pocket, showing it to the boy. It wasn’t an especially large nor threatening one. “I need to take a blood sample from you.” Newt’s voice echoed in his mind. He sighed reluctantly. “For science.”

“For science?” Ota watched the needle, his expression, as usual, unreadable. “What science?”

“It’s… so that we can see if you’re a superhero.”

“Hermann you made it sound so laaaaaaaaame!” Newt rolled his eyes. “Right, kid. We might not have gotten off to the most… auspicious of starts, but listen here. This is serious business, ‘kay?” Ota put the comic book down, looking like he’d just been challenged to a duel. “Have you ever heard of the Shatterdome Rangers?” Ota shook his head. Nonchalant. “Well dude, you’re freaking missing out, man. The Shatterdome Rangers are the coolest freaking superheroes on the goddamn planet. And they’re not some silly comic-book hero either.” He glanced at his bookshelf and apologised to his heroes in his head. “Nah, the Shatterdome Rangers are REAL. Plus, no-one knows who they are.”

“What do they do.”

“Well obviously, they fight crime! Whilst the Jaegars are busy with the Kaiju, the Shatterdome Rangers fight the real villains… the ones you haven’t heard about. Evil lurks in the shadows, man. And the cities around here have a lot of shadows.”

“‘Fortune favours the brave’,” Hermann muttered under his breath. Then he looked at the boy and gave him a small smile. “The uhm, the Red Ranger. He’s called Grou-P. His motto is ‘Fortune Favours the Brave’. He is the ultimate in cool and the leader of the Rangers.” Hermann hoped he’d done that right. It had been a long time since he’d watched TV.

Newt puffed up, incredibly happy with Hermann not only corroborating with him but… adding on to the story. Adding Newt into the story. Though Grou-P was a little bit harsh.

“The pink ranger is Pi,” Newt countered. “He’s the absolute dork of the group, but he’s really cute and in a fight he can pull his own weight in gold.”

“The pink ranger can’t be a man. The pink ranger is always a girl,” Ota complained.

“Wow fuck your gender norms, man. I thought Tendo was teaching you to be a feminist. Jeez.” Shit. He’d sworn.

“The Green Ranger,” Hermann continued hurriedly, “is their scout. He can see the bad guys coming from miles away. He also makes their weapons.”

“Blue is M&M. She’s the main fighter of the Rangers. Her main weapon is a bow-staff, but wields a katana like a boss.”

“And finally is the white Ranger,” Hermann concluded. “She is the lone wolf of the group, barely talking to her fellow members, but her attacks never miss, and she is known to win battles by herself.” Maybe that was too vague. “Also she’s Russian.” Okay perhaps that was too specific.

“And what’s this got to do with you taking my blood?”

The two adults in the room were pulled out of their self-gratuitous fantasy. “Well, the Shatterdome Rangers contacted us the other day and told us that you might have the Ranger Gene.” Newt took the needle and inspected it in a very doctor-like fashion.

“They contacted you?”

“That’s right. So. Newton is just going to take a little bit of blood, and we’ll find out whether or not you’re the next Shatterdome Ranger.”

Ota was totally deceived. He acted nonplussed but offered out his arm.

Newt made a big show of taking the blood, acting every bit the mad scientist, before cackling evilly and running to the lab. Hermann rolled his eyes, wished the boy good night, and followed after him.

When he reached the lab, Newt was already busy with various instruments, so Hermann pulled up his own chair in order to watch. They sat in a sort-of silence, Newt humming some song or another to himself (“Is that the song about the robot cat??” “YEAH IT IS YOU KNOW WHAT’S UP, HERMZ,”*)  and Hermann trying very hard not to distract him. Half an hour in, Tendo walked past the lab, backtracked and popped his head round the door.

“Oh Hermann! I kinda forgot, cos like the whole adorable child thing. You had a phonecall. About 3 days ago. It sounded important. Uh. Yeah. Sorry. Number’s on a post-it stuck on the kaiju monitor.”

Hermann sighed. “Right. Thank you, I suppose.” Tendo raised an apologetic hand, cried a muddled “Thank you” / “G’night” hybrid and ran off before he could be thwacked in the face.

“I shall go and check that message,” Hermann said, pulling himself off the chair. Newt nodded, barely looking up.

Hermann always preferred walking through the Shatterdome at night: with no-one to push past him, to tut agitatedly at his speed, to curse him when they tripped over his cane. He walked at a leisurely pace, not seeing how a couple more minutes would affect the wait time his mystery caller had already had to suffer through.

Making it to the monitor room, he reached over some poor night-shift-intern’s head to pluck off the small yellow square. The number looked familiar… really familiar. Hermann was good with numbers, obviously, but for some reason, phone numbers had always eluded him. It was a stupid thing to be crap with, and had caused him endless suffering from Newt, who actually seemed to have startling proficiency with remembering them.

He picked up the phone in the small office and dialled the number, but it beeped loudly and obnoxiously to tell him the line was busy. Sighing, he wished the intern a good night and returned to the lab. In the time it had taken him to do so, Newt had nearly finished the practical side of their venture.

“So? Who’s your secret admirer?”

“Not sure as of yet. Line was busy.” Hermann sat at his own desk and typed the numbers in again. He knew the combination from somewhere… He said the numbers under his breath as he punched them in, hoping it would jiggle the memory from his brain’s depths.

“684 did you say?” Newt’s head whipped up. “Dude that’s your sister-”

As he said this, said sister’s voice appeared on the other end of the line. “Hello? Who is this, please?”

“Karla??”

“HERMANN?? YOU LITTLE SHIT WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?”

“Karla?? What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

There was a sob on the other side of the line and Newt crashed his way over so that he could listen into the call. 

"What’s wrong?? WHAT’S WRONG?! What’s wrong is that my stupid brother doesn’t pick up his phone when we come to visit him, he doesn’t pick up his phone when we’re at his door, doesn’t pick up his phone when-” her voice cracked. “It’s Jacob, Hermann, he’s-”

Hermann’s heart dropped a thousand miles. Karla and her family were coming to visit.

Three days ago. He’d completely forgotten.

Karla, Joseph and their 8 year old son-

...who he’d never met.

Who looked like him.

Who was-

“Missing?”

“...yes, Hermann. He’s- I took my eyes off of him for- just-” Hearing his baby sister sob was horrendous. Hearing his baby sister sob because of him. That was nearly killing him.

“Karla, I think I may have done something incredibly stupid.”

“...what?”

“...There’s a… hm.” Hermann gulped. “There’s a chance I know where Jacob is.” Hermann looked up at Newt. Newt’s eyes widened. Newt started running.

“What?! WHERE? HERMANN I-”

“Shh, Karla, please. It is just a possibility, a possibility that I- I am incredibly sorry for not picking up the phone, I am a shoddy brother, but it will all be okay, Karla? Everything is going to be fine. I am going to find Jacob for you, okay?” Hermann’s phone buzzed. A text from Newt, with a photo attached. A photo of the semi-kidnapped child, fast asleep, in his bed. Hermann forwarded it to his sister. “I- I have sent you a text.” I don’t know how to explain this if this isn’t your son, he finished in his mind.

“Oh god, oh god, it’s him, Hermann, it’s- where is he?! Hermann? Where is he?!?”

Hermann heaved the longest sigh he’d possibly ever heaved. He knew it was a cliché, but he hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath. “I- I’ve been taking care of him,” he admitted in a tone that screamed ‘I kidnapped a small child and had no idea who he was.’

“You… You what?? HERMANN WHERE ARE YOU WHERE IS JACOB.”

“Shatterdome. I’m at the Shatterdome. He’s been- we’ve been- Just- okay I’ll explain when you get here, okay? Just ask the front for Hermann’s bunk, you’ll find me there. I’ll tell them to expect you.”

[In a stunning turn of events, it seems Ota is actually my nephew,] Hermann texted, before running to its recipient.

-

“So let me get this straight,” Karla said, stroking her son’s sleeping head defensively, not letting the two awkwardly hovering in the doorway anywhere near him. “You found a crying child in an alleyway whilst drunk and you?”

Hermann gulped. “W-we took him to the Shatterdome?”

“You took him to the Shatterdome. Right. Not the police station. Not to his parents. To the Shatterdome. The place where weapons, heavy machinery and soldiers are created.”

Hermann and Newt nodded. The latter went to open his mouth, to excuse Hermann, to say it was his fault, but one look from Karla froze any words in his throat.

“And it took you… three days? Three days to realise that...?”

“...that we should find out where he was from. And that you were coming to visit. And that I should look at the e-mails you send me entitled ‘more baby photos!!!’”.

“What really gets me,” Karla said, all venom, “Is not that you kidnapped a child, nor that you took him to the Shatterdome, but that you created a fictional character for him. That you didn’t even realise that he was your own nephew.”

“To be fair he never said anything to the contrary-”

“He’s an 8 year old! He does whatever you tell him to think!”

“...sorry.” Newt fiddled with his glasses.

“And what did you name him?”

“Ota.”

“Ota? As in… Short for OTACHI, Ota?!”

“... that one was my fault,” Newt wobbled, raising a hand.

“Otachi. Of course you did.” Karla looked up at them, disappointment and anger colouring every feature. “You’re fucking freaks. You know that? Sadistic, creepy, lonely, fucking freaks.” She hung her head again, smoothing her boy’s forehead. Newt gripped Hermann’s hand. Neither said anything. They moved out of the doorway when Karla’s husband returned with two glasses of water, giving them the dirtiest eyes they’d ever received. Newt rolled down his sleeves. This was not one of his proudest moments.

Hermann bristled but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything. He didn’t sleep that night. Neither did Newt. They sat in the dining hall and looked at their hands. When they went back to their rooms, there was no evidence the three had stayed the night.

-

“Aww, no Ota this morning?” Tendo grinned as  he joined Newt and Hermann at their dining table.

“His mother came to pick him up.”

“Hmmm, post-child blues, eh? How’s Vanessa? Relaxed after her childless vacation?”

“Her name isn’t Vanessa. It’s Karla. And she didn’t know we had him.”

“...oh. Well shit.”

“His name isn’t Ota, either. It’s Jacob.”

“...well fuck. You’ve screw up, big time haven’t you.”

“Yes,” the two said. “We’ve screwed up. Big time.”

They repeated the same conversation many times over the course of the day.

-

The next morning, Hermann had mail. He generally received a lot of mail, but this one… he usually didn’t receive mail written in some sort of crayon.

‘Dear Uncle Hermann,

I am very sorry that mummy and daddy came to pick me up without letting me say goodbye. They told me that you and Uncle Newt had done something very bad and that was why I was not allowed to say goodbye. I hope you haven’t done something too bad, because I liked staying with you (and okay maybe Newt but please don’t tell him I said that because I have my street cred to keep up okay?) Please say hello to Tendo, Sasha, Mako, Alexis, Rayley (???? How do you even spell that???) , Herk, and to my new brothers Xiang, Long and Wu and say that I am sorry for leaving so rudely. I really like my new badge it is really awesome and it made me feel really, really cool.

I miss you already.

You were really cool.

Ota.

(P.s. My actual name is Jacob, but I didn’t want to say because it was funny watching Uncle Newt get confused between me and the kaiju baby. I’m sorry if this is what got you into trouble.)

(P.p.s. Uncle Tendo told me that you and Uncle Newt were always together. Are you married? If you are, you’re naughty because you don’t wear your rings, which daddy and mummy tell me shows that they love each other (ewwwwww). If you’re not married, can I come to your wedding? I hear that weddings have really big cakes. I like cake.)

(P.p.p.s. I’m sorry about your chalkboard. I got angry because I thought that mummy and daddy had left me behind and I was really sad and sometimes when I’m sad I get really angry. If you want me to, I can help you write the numbers again. I can do my 12 times table, which Miss. Long my maths teacher tells me is really good. I hope this helps.)

(P.p.p.p.s. I drew you and Uncle Newt and me. I have attached it. It’s in this envelope. You should hang it on your wall because you don’t have any photos of you and Newt on your wall and that made me sad. Okay. I have to go to school now. Bye.)

(P.p.p.p.p.s. OH I NEARLY FORGOT TO SAY. Mummy has been telling me about you since I was a baby. You’re not nearly as bad as she told me you were in her stories. She told me that when she was a kid you used to hit her with your stick, so I was really scared that you were going to hit me too, but you didn’t. I guess that makes me better than mummy. Heh.)

-

*The Robot Cat by Logan Whitehurst was on a Newmann playlist I was listening to whilst writing this and I swear to god I was humming it all day damn it.

 


	2. Having Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2.

"Let's adopt a kid."

"Let's not."

"Myeah, you're probably right."

"Probably?"

"I just had a dream where I imagined Ota- Jacob falling down a trash compactor because he ate my slice of wedding cake."

"Let us never, ever, adopt a child."

"Sounds good to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry


End file.
